


Call Spirits from the Vasty Deep

by within_a_dream



Category: Green Men Series - K. J. Charles
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Case Fic, D/s undertones, Ghosts, Horror, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: Another bloody haunted house turns out to be more dangerous than anticipated
Relationships: Randolph Glyde/Saul Lazenby
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13
Collections: Fic In A Box





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snowshus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowshus/gifts).



Another bloody haunted house. If someone had told Saul a year ago that one day he would find exorcising restless spirits to be a rather dull day on the job, he would have called them mad. But here he was, following Randolph to yet another house whose owners had reached out for help, and Saul couldn’t think of anywhere he’d like to be less than in the passenger seat of Randolph’s motorcar, on their way to a Devonshire estate that had by all accounts seen its better days centuries ago. The ghosts had grown ever more frequent, and Saul was forever torn between being grateful that the majority of the hauntings had proved easy to put to rest and being angry at all of the time they’d wasted driving around the country to wave their hands and say a few words in a dead language or two.

“Are you brooding again?” Randolph asked “Think of it like a vacation, dear. We’ll have a lovely country house to ourselves for the entire night, and I can’t imagine the banishing will take more than an hour or so.”

“We could have had your apartment to ourselves, and that has hot water.” Saul sank back into his seat, shutting his eyes.

“Oh, it’s most likely going to be horrid. But I’m sure we can make the best of it.”

Even with his eyes shut, Saul could hear the smirk in Randolph’s voice. “I’ll hold you to that.”

It didn’t even occur to Saul that he might have more to fear than boredom, not even when they arrived at the manor to find its residents already gone and the entryway strewn with detritus.

They’d already told Randolph that they intended to take a holiday during the exorcism, but Saul had expected them to at least wait until he and Randolph arrived. They’d left a note, set under a paperweight, that detailed the haunting, mostly a repetition of what they’d already reported. Strange noises in the night, objects thrown, icy hands on shoulders. They were certain that if they stayed any longer, the ghost would be the death of them – typical of the people who called Randolph in.

“Well,” Randolph said, setting the note back on the table, “shall we begin?”

They started in the parlor, where it seemed the activity had begun. It seemed like an entirely normal, albeit shabby, room, filled with furniture whose upholstery had seen better days. Randolph poked at a tear in a chaise with a judgmental scowl on his face. “I suppose it’s lucky we don’t expect them to pay us.”

Saul would wonder later why it hadn’t occurred to him that the house’s condition could be due to something other than lack of care or funds on the owner’s part. Going into the exorcism with a better idea of the stakes might not have changed anything, but it couldn’t have hurt.

Instead, Saul had laughed and elbowed Randolph. “Not everyone has your endless funds. Although they could at least have patched the hole.”

Something smashed, making Saul jump. He turned to see a lamp on the ground, its base shattered.

“Well, there’s the ghost,” Randolph said. He held out his hands, muttering the words Saul had come to know well. The incantation would banish minor spirits, and weaken most of the rest. As Randolph spoke, the room filled with a low growl, a noise that Saul felt more than heard. The growl grew louder the longer Randolph spoke, until it cut off in perfect tandem with the final flourish of the incantation.

“Was that enough?” But even as he spoke, Saul knew it hadn’t been. The silence felt wrong, pressing in on him in much the same way the growl had.

Randolph shook his head, and by the look on his face, he was feeling much the same way. “I don’t think we’re as lucky as that. But I believe it’s left the room.”

“Wonderful,” Saul said. “Just how I wanted to spend my night, playing hide and seek with a ghost.”

“With any luck, we’ll be done by dusk,” Randolph replied. “Shall we?” He gestured to the door of the parlor.

By sunset, Saul was ready to curse Randolph for his overconfidence. The house wasn’t wired for electricity, and so they were left to plumb its depths with candles. They’d walked through nearly every room on the first floor, with nothing to show for their troubles. Saul wasn’t sure any one family needed this much space. He’d take Randolph’s flat or Fetter Lane over this dilapidated sprawling mess any day of the week.

Each room was more of a mess than the last, items strewn about in just the right place for Saul and Randolph to stumble over them. It had occurred to Saul by now that part of the mess was surely the ghost, although he’d never seen someone fail so utterly at cleaning up after a haunting. That should have been another warning, but at the time Saul thought nothing of it, cursing the owners of this wretched place for not reshelving the books the ghost had tossed into the library doorway or the plates shattered on the kitchen floor.

They stopped for a moment in the kitchen. Something in the air felt electric, making the hair on Saul’s arms stand on end. “Found you,” he murmured.

Randolph drew in a breath, but before he could speak, something flew through the air and hit the wall behind him. Saul’s eyes traced the path – there was a knife embedded in the kitchen cupboard behind Randolph. It had thrown a bloody knife at them! Saul had been in greater danger than this, but this knife, on what had been meant to be a simple banishing, felt like a much greater betrayal.

Randolph hissed, holding a hand up to his ear. It came away red. “We seem to have angered it. Shall we try something a bit stronger?”

‘We’ meant Randolph, as it usually did. Saul always felt a bit useless on these excursions, not having the decades of experience with words of power and strange incantations that Randolph possessed. Normally he was content to stand back and watch, but here, in this house that sung with danger, the uselessness rankled. Randolph could be skewered at any moment, and Saul didn’t know enough to protect him.

It would be fine. Randolph knew what he was doing, and this was only a haunting. They’d been through worse. Saul had buried Geoffrey de Mannville, he could handle a little spirit.

Randolph began to chant, the words buzzing through the air, warming the air around them and chasing away the cold prickling that filled the kitchen. Then his words cut off, and he began to clutch at his throat, gasping for breath.

Saul ran to his side, clutching at his arm. Randolph’s face was going blue, his hands scrabbling at his throat. Saul shut his eyes and thought of Camden Moat.

He heard, somewhere in the distance, the rustle of leaves. The smell of moss and wet stone filled the air. Something shrieked, angry and in pain, and Randolph drew in a shuddering breath.

“All right, up,” Saul said, pulling him to his feet. “We have to get out of here. Places to see, ghosts to banish.” He was babbling. Hopefully Randolph wouldn’t hold it against him.

Randolph stood up, his grip on Saul tight. “It might be wise to call for backup.”

Saul nodded. “I don’t suppose they have a telephone.”

“No, unfortunately Pemberton Manor is firmly rooted in the nineteenth century. We may have luck with the local tavern. And if not...loath as I am to drive back to London, I fear we may have no choice.”

Randolph’s resources bore no records of phenomena in this area, and so they’d set off for the manor with only generalized preparation for an exorcism. But it seemed there was something stronger in this house, and more knowledge could be the difference between life and death. Saul hoped Randolph’s connection extended to the countryside.

As soon as they stepped out of the kitchen, the door slammed shut. Saul jumped at the noise, and it truly was a sign of the severity of the situation that Randolph didn’t tease him for it. Slamming doors followed them down the hallway and back to the entryway, one of then nearly trapping Saul’s jacket inside. It didn’t come as a surprise when the front door didn’t open.

“Stand back,” Randolph said, taking a breath. He began to shout, the words writhing through the air. Something bright hit the door, the flash blinding Saul. When the light faded, the wall around the door was charred, but the door itself stood firm.

“Damn it all.” Randolph strode forward and kicked the door, cursing. “It seems we’re here for the night.”

A creak echoed through the house, louder than it had any right to be. Saul looked at Randolph, seeing his own trepidation reflected back at him in Randolph’s eyes. “I suppose we have to follow it.”

“I don’t see any other option.” Randolph took Saul’s hand. “We’ve faced worse than this, my love.”

Nothing struck fear into Saul’s heart as did Randolph being sincere. He remembered the cool water of Camden Moat, and set off toward the noise.

  
  


It was the door to the cellar. Of course it was. Saul could have laughed at the cliché if he weren’t so bloody terrified. The darkness of the stairwell felt alive, creeping out of its bounds and infecting the hallway, eating at the glow from the candle in Saul’s hand. Randolph stepped through the door, and even one step behind him, Saul couldn’t see him. He reached out his hand, grabbing hold of Randolph’s shoulder.

“I’m here,” Randolph murmured. His voice shook.

The stairs extended far longer than should be possible. They were descending into Hell, some hysterical part of Saul thought. He turned to look behind him, trying to reassure himself that the stairs weren’t somehow crumbling away as he took them, but all he saw was darkness. When they reached the bottom, it came with a shock, that sinking feeling in one’s stomach when one expected another step. Saul stumbled, nearly dropping his candle.

No matter how he looked around, Saul’s eyes didn’t adjust. The room was black, the light of his candle barely enough to illuminate his own hand. It could go on forever. Panic clawed up Saul’s throat, and he fought back the urge to scream. He was the Walker of Camden Moat, and he would _not_ be bested by some cellar-skulking phantom.

“There,” Randolph whispered, the room dulling his words. Saul soon saw what he’d meant – there was a writhing ball of darkness in front of them, somehow even blacker than the rest of the room, sending tendrils searching along the floor.

“I see you,” Saul called. “I see you, and I’m not afraid.”

Randolph hissed, but Saul felt deep within him that he needed to speak. He strode towards the darkness, brandishing his candle like a sword. With his other hand, he reached into his jacket, grabbing hold of the vial of water he’d brought with him. It had sat untouched in his pocket for months, the spirits they faced giving him no need for it. Tonight, it glowed warm.

Saul could see the walls now. It wasn’t his candle lighting his way, he realized – it was him, skin shining a warm green, and the ball of darkness began to cower. He walked right up to its edge, its tendrils sizzling under his foot, and splashed the water over the creature.

It howled, and some distant part of Saul felt a deep pressure closing around his head, for just a moment. Then his light thrummed hot, and the pressure shattered.

“You have no power over me.” The words came through Saul’s mouth, but it was the Moat that spoke them. “I am the Walker, the holder of power you can’t even imagine. I am light and you are darkness and you will not overtake me.” He held out the now-empty vial. “You _will_ leave this place.”

The darkness began to spin, a few tendrils dragged towards the vial, then more. It shrieked as it was sucked into the bottle, the glass turning painfully cold against Saul’s hand. Or rather, it would have been painful, had Saul not been so filled with warmth. The scream grew quieter and quieter, and light began to creep into the cellar. The last dregs of the darkness entered the vial, and Saul quickly capped it.

Saul sunk to the ground, gingerly cradling the vial. The warmth melted away, and with it went all of the strength that had been keeping him upright.

Randolph ran to his side, taking the vial from him. “Are you all right?”

“Not dead yet,” Saul slurred, struggling to seize the words from the fog clouding his mind. “Can we sleep?” He just needed to sleep. He could happily spend the night on the cellar floor, if it meant getting rest.

Randolph tucked the vial into his own pocket, and then scooped Saul up, cradling him in his arms. “After everything they put us through, the Pembertons can bloody well give us the use of their bedroom for the night.”

“Lovely,” Saul murmured, nestling his head against Randolph’s shoulder. “We should sleep in.”

“Given the night you’ve had, I’ll be personally offended if you’re out of bed before two in the afternoon.”

“Mmm.” Saul couldn’t cling to consciousness any longer. Randolph would take him to bed, and put the vial somewhere safe. He could feel Randolph’s pulse against his ear, slow and steady. He was safe here.


	2. Chapter 2

Saul woke up warm, content, and very nearly able to forget the bone-deep exhaustion that still consumed him. He very nearly curled back into the quilt and went back to sleep, until he saw Randolph watching him from the other side of the bed, expression soft. He tried to mask his fondness when he noticed Saul looking back at him.

“What time is it?” Saul murmured, stretching.

“Early enough,” Randolph replied. “I did promise you a lazy morning in bed.”

“No further manifestations?”

Randolph leaned over to kiss Saul on the forehead. “Stop worrying, dear. The ghost is gone, we have nothing to do for the rest of the day, and you deserve a reward for last night.”

“As much as I’d love to take advantage of that offer, I’m not sure I’m entirely capable of moving.” Saul let his eyes drift shut again. “Perhaps I’ll just lie here a little longer.”

“ _I’_ _m_ not tired.” Randolph’s breath tickled Saul’s neck, and then he kissed Saul, sucking at the skin.

“Mmmm.” Saul tilted his head back, exposing his neck to Randolph. “That sounds like a delightful way to spend a morning.”

Randolph kissed down Saul’s neck, pausing to nip at his collarbone. Saul let himself sink into the feeling, head lolling back onto the pillows. He never wanted to move again. He would stay in this bed forever, allowing Randolph to have his way with him.

Randolph sucked at Saul’s nipple, and Saul arched up into him.

“Gorgeous,” Randolph murmured, his words vibrating against Saul’s chest. “I could look at you all day.”

“I’m not...”

“You’re not allowed an opinion on the matter,” Randolph replied. “Especially after last night. My God, the way you talked to it, like you hadn’t a fear in the world, and that _glow_ – absolutely marvelous.”

“You do the same on every job. Well, perhaps without the glow,” Saul conceded.

“And I was raised in the profession, and had my fear beaten out of me. You had no such upbringing, and thus your performance is far more admirable. Now hush and let me tell my lover how wonderful he is.”

It wasn’t that Randolph was never kind. But he was so rarely _sincere_ , and to hear him speak like this took Saul’s breath away. And then Randolph took Saul by the wrist and sucked Saul’s fingers into his mouth, and Saul gave up any hope of catching his breath. Randolph’s tongue swirled around Saul’s fingers, and it felt like he had locked his lips around Saul’s cock. Saul protested incoherently when Randolph pulled back, but then he began to kiss and lick a trail up Saul’s arm, and soon he reached the crook of Saul’s elbow and all coherent thought fled.

“Could I get you off just with this?” Randolph murmured, barely lifting his lips from Saul’s skin. “Perhaps we should try.”

This would kill him. Saul would die of pleasure right here in a stranger’s bed, and then there would be another ghost haunting Pemberton Manor and Randolph would have to exorcise _him_ as well.

“Please,” Saul begged, his free hand grasping at the sheets. “Please, Randolph...”

“Ask for what you want.” There was a vicious satisfaction to Randolph’s voice, and _oh_ , Saul loved it when he got like this

“Please, more!”

“I suppose you’ve earned it.” Randolph moved to the foot of the bed, sliding Saul’s legs apart and then kneeling between them. He took Saul’s cock in his hand, then pressed his mouth to the tip. Saul would have grabbed Randolph’s head to pull him further down if he could move his arms, but he was still too tired to do anything but lie back and slur out demands, which Randolph only laughed at.

“I’ll take my time, I think,” he said after Saul’s nearly unintelligible plea for more, faster, further. But he only teased Saul for a while longer before swallowing him down deep. Randolph Glyde had a quick tongue in more ways than one. He worked around Saul’s cock with a practiced ease, and God, Saul wasn’t going to last much longer, but he didn’t want this to end.

Randolph began to bob his head, sucking harder, and Saul arched into his mouth. Randolph pulled back one last time, reaching a hand up to stroke Saul’s cock. It only took a single stroke until Saul was spending, Randolph caressing him through it and covering his gasp with a kiss.

Randolph slid his hand between Saul’s legs, one finger tracing his arsehole. “I want to fuck you like this,” he growled into Saul’s shoulder, “slicked up with your own spend.”

“Please,” Saul gasped. God, he wanted Randolph in him.

Randolph obliged, slicking Saul and himself with a few smooth motions before working his cock into Saul’s arse. It was almost too much, the stretch of Randolph’s cock so soon after Saul had spent, and his spend was just enough to ease the way without fully removing the burn. At this point, Saul would have taken anything Randolph saw fit to give him. When Randolph began to thrust, it was agonizingly slow, and his hands were light on Saul’s hips.

“Harder,” Saul said, “please!”

“When you ask so nicely...” Randolph obeyed, hitching Saul’s legs up and hammering into him. Saul moaned, letting Randolph manhandle him. He was entirely consumed by Randolph inside of him, Randolph’s hands clutching his hips, Randolph’s gasps in his ears. Saul let himself float away on the feeling, his world narrowing to Randolph and himself.

Randolph spent with a shout, slumping over Saul. Saul leaned his head against Randolph’s, murmuring, “Let’s never move again.”

They stayed like that for a long blissful while, until Randolph said apologetically, “We have to get up, dear.”

Saul reluctantly sat up, and then looked in dismay at the bed, the sheets now covered in sweat and spend. “We’ve made their bed absolutely filthy.”

“We’ll burn the sheets,” Randolph said, grinning. He put on a mock-solemn face. “Unfortunate collateral damage during the course of the exorcism.”

“And you think they’ll believe that?”

“We could have covered every inch of their furniture in jism and told them it was exorcism. We saved them from certain death, they’ll believe anything we tell them. Are you up for walking?”

The weariness had faded, although the sex hadn’t helped. Saul’s legs no longer felt liable to collapse underneath his weight, and his head was no longer fogged. But...he returned Randolph’s grin. “I think you may need to carry me.”


End file.
